Frustration
by Tikvah
Summary: To a bystander they might seem like lovers but this is not an act of love. It is all about frustration,raw and merciless, pent up for too long. Shika/Neji. Yaoi. 20091130- rewritten, reposted


Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did own Naruto the truth is I don't and never will.

Warnings: Un Beta'd – Me and the word spellchecker did our best to correct the errors in this. Contains yaoi and is a bit angsty-ish, maybe some OOC-ness to. Drabble.

**To TheCupcakeMonster:** Thank you so much for reminding me of the difference between being inspired by someone else's story and stealing an idea. It seems I tell you this all the time but you really are an awesome person, that's why you deserve to have this fic dedicated to you : )

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**-:- Frustration -:-**

The rain is falling hard. Mercilessly the water hammers everything in its way into submission. Cold and hard, almost furiously, it falls from the iron skies above Konoha colliding painfully with the skin of the two shinobi standing in a secluded alley. Already the cold water has sunk through their clothes and the skin exposed to the weather has begun to grow numb from the constant assault of hard drops. But the rain is not important; in fact they couldn't care less about it. To them the pain it causes is just a noise in the background, like the drumming of water against the ground. They don't pay it any attention which is a good thing since the taller one is biting down on the shoulder of his companion, pushing him hard against the rough wall, pinning him down by his wrists.

To a bystander they might seem lovers but this has nothing to do with love. Love is tender and warm, caring for someone other than oneself. No, it is not an act of love, far from it.

Cold and hard, just like the rain falling down on them, it is an act of anger. It is an act of desperation, of trying to be free of that _feeling_ festering inside them. But more than anything it is an act of frustration. Raw and merciless frustration, pent up for too long, threatening to slowly consume them from within unless they get rid of it.

So they collide with each other once again. After all, what better way to push the anger out of the body than to just fuck each other senseless, to lose it just as they would lose themselves in their release for a moment before slowly returning to the way things were supposed to be.

That was the plan and most of the times it worked, sometimes though things just wouldn't fall in place and it took more than one round before it did. Before finally all that rage would disappear and they found themselves able to _breathe _again.

It is not an act of love; if it was they would both be with someone else. They would be with their most precious someone those persons they treasure more than their own lives. So you see, it is not only an act of frustration, it is also an act of betrayal.

But it is for the sake of those loved ones they need to see each other. For those precious people they want to be someone complete, a whole person not torn apart by that _thing_ inside. They could try and fight it but in the end they know they always loose. They also know that they could never willingly direct the full force of all that frustration onto the ones they love the most, it would hurt too much, so they give it to each other instead. Again and again they repeat their betrayal because no matter what it takes and no matter how much it hurts they want to protect their loved ones from this darkness.

The alley isn't one of their best picks, they'd rather do it on the forest floor or hidden somewhere indoors. The library perhaps, they had been there before. The alley is dirty and they have to keep standing because of all the water turning the ground to mud, it smells bad and the rain is painful. But they are not complaining, they are alone in the shadows and the hammering from above isn't going to stop them because this is not about love or affection. It is about frustration and anger, and the pain falling from the sky is their perfect companion.

Their raw frustration isn't something born from everyday irritation such as having to deal with an annoying team member or being forced to re-write twenty mission reports because a kid decided they would be good to use as target practice if folded into planes. It is born from the constant pressure of not being in control of one's life, from the knowledge that no matter how powerful he gets he can never stand up against that which he hates the most. It is born from the agony of being the one responsible for planning the mission where his friends get hurt; because no matter how idiot-proof it might seem on paper the strategy isn't played out on a board made of wood and reality has a tendency to throw unpleasant surprises in their way.

There is a battle going on between them, they are clawing and biting, as the anger seethes in the air around them. It shouldn't be enjoyable. The bruising and bleeding, biting and scratching, it hurts as they are grunting out their frustration. The bruises on their bodies, their scraped skin and bleeding lips, they aren't supposed to enjoy it. It shouldn't feel the way it does but maybe that's the thrill that pushes their frustration away. The thrill of purposely harming one another, proving that they still have the power they feel like they have lost. The thrill of fighting back, of letting themselves be hurt. The thrill that comes from the strange awareness that they are not just living but that they are _alive as_ they taste the other's blood on their own lips. But always underneath the coppery sting of life is the bitterness of betrayal. They aren't supposed to like it but perhaps that is why it is in fact so _very_ enjoyable.

They are shivering. Shivering because the rain is cold, shivering because they are both so desperate feeling of peace waiting for them. Their clothes are an annoying hindrance and somewhere in between their laboured breathing and the hammering of rain the sound of tearing fabric can be heard as one half of a white robe falls to the ground soon followed by a heavy thud as a green west joins it. Yanking and pulling at offending fabric their hands soon remove all obstacles between them.

Sensitive skin is exposed to the cold and they both moan as they touch, shivering as the rain removes all friction between them. They're grinding now, the taller of the two pushing his partner up against the wall again, skin sliding against skin as teeth nips at each other's lips. Demanding and dominating they fight to win over the other as moans are swallowed by their eager mouths. It's all raw hurried movements and there is urgency in the way their bodies rock against each other. Nothing matters to them now besides that yearning desire to be rid of that _feeling_ that's filling them up from inside. Pale eyes glare at his younger partner and with a panting voice huskily orders him to hurry up.

Pale, slender fingers curl and tightly holds on to hair as the taller reach behind his partner who releases a breathy moan into the air. The fingers pulls tighter at the hair as his partner continue the stretching. Absentmindedly he reflects that while the hair is usually actually kind of nice and soft to touch the feeling of it now, soaked by the rain, is just as irritating and stupid as the style it's usually kept in. The seconds tic by, they have to wait a few minutes. They know this, because it always takes a few minutes but it's frustrating to wait and right now that frustration is their worst enemy. After two fingers the elder decides that it's enough and tells the taller of them to just get on with it.

The long haired shinobi finds himself forcefully turned and pinned to the cold wall again as his partner swiftly buries himself inside of him. There is pain and that burning sensation but they just can't wait anymore. This is not about love and foreplay is a waste of their time. He does not mind the pain; he doesn't even really feel it since pain is something you become closely familiar with as a shinobi. Somehow he needs the pain to be there in order to truly chase the frustration away

The rhythm starts out slow and they hate it. Out, pause, slowly in, pause and repeat. The taller of them shakes as he tries to control his urge to just shove all his frustration inside the other as hard as he can. They both hate this pace and the frustration builds steadily within them until one of them snaps.

Tanned hands curl over the pale ones held flat against the wall and the speed immediately picks up. The thrusts become more and more frantic as the anger burns through their bodies and their moans echoes in the alley without their control. There's just the want for release driving them, the hunt for that elusive moment of peace. Ravish and be ravished. The rain is still hammering down on them as the younger places his chin on a pale shoulder, breathing against his partner's ear with tightly shut eyes.

The shinobi underneath him is moaning loudly, gritting his teeth tightly to muffle it because his pride won't allow him to scream out his pleasure the way his body wants to every time that place inside him is struck by a hard thrust.

They want it to go on forever but the frustration and anger is whirling painfully inside them and they know it will all be over soon. Three hard thrusts later and they're done. The tanned one releases into his partner with a long moan, riding out the last of his orgasm with a face screwed up in pleasure. Underneath him his partner has his eyes closed tightly, arms shaking against the wall as he feels the warm liquid entering his body, filling him.

And just like that, their frustration is gone.

Feeling the pleasure fade out and their pulse slow down they are finally themselves again. Each takes a few shaky breaths and revels in the wonderful emptiness inside where just minutes ago there was that awful festering feeling.

Wordlessly, without really looking at each other they pick up their clothes and help the other place them back where they belong. The younger sighs and wonders out loud if his partner could just stop pulling at his hair already; having to redo his ponytail after every time is really troublesome. The elder just send him a glare and run his fingers through his own hair, trying to smooth out the long mass.

When they are finally dressed they carefully walk out of the alley, luckily since it's raining they are the only ones out on the street. Side by side the slowly walk down the empty street, not talking, both deeply absorbed in themselves, enjoying the rare feeling of calm warmth inside.

No words of farewell are exchanged when they finally part ways because they know they are not needed, they will soon seek out each other again.

Like they always do.

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Author's Notes: Ok so here it is: the revisited version of Frustration ^^ all of you who just read this should send a huge thank you to TheCupcakeMonster because if she hadn't sent me such wonderfully kind and encouraging words I doubt that I would ever had found the energy to rewrite and post this story again.

Even tough rewritten, it is close to how it used to be so if you've read it before you might not feel like there are any changes at all, but trust me there are, and to me they made a really important difference.

Thank you so much for reading this little drabble of mine, I hope it wasn't a complete waste of time ^^; Reviews are, as always, super appreciated :)


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